


Holler to be Heard

by Tuiteyfruity



Series: Tiny!Hamilton [6]
Category: 18th & 19th Century CE RPF, 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: Gen, I Tried, Important: There is no need to read previous tiny!hamilton fics before this one, Lams - Freeform, M/M, at least implied future lams, even if it says this is part 6 of a series, meaning hamilton is 5 inches tall, the series is not in any order, tiny!ham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 14:32:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7109350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tuiteyfruity/pseuds/Tuiteyfruity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tiny!Hamilton AU prose adaptation of Aaron Burr Sir.</p><p>(apologies for my writing ability, I'm a scientist, not a writer)</p><p>Important: You do not need to read any other tiny!hamilton fic before this one. it says it is part 6 of the series, but the series is not in order and is just all of my tiny!ham fics, including modern era ones</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holler to be Heard

**Author's Note:**

> I attempted to adjust musical canon and historical canon to the Tiny!ham AU [specifically Aaron Burr, Sir] (Hamilton being tiny changes things, and some historical canon worked better than musical). I do use some of the lyrics verbatim because they sort of work in conversation, but I also diverge from the song… 
> 
> This AU is specifically built around the musical (the appearances and personalities of the characters are based on their portrayals in the musical more than the historical figures). 
> 
> so I turned a 2.5 minute song into a 3K fic

So far this day had not gone well for Hamilton, and he had such high hopes.

It had taken some doing, getting to the  Princeton campus, he couldn't exactly walk there. Not that it was a walkable to place for people who weren't his height. At least he had been already been in New Jersey, he had to make sure he wasn't late so he had arrived early.

Once on the campus he had to hitchhike from person to person, and he ended up getting an unofficial and unplanned tour of the college. Being transferred to so many different hands in one day, putting his trust and care, even just temporarily, was not helping his nerves. These were people he did not know, who were mostly younger than himself, all who could have mishandled him. It was almost more unnerving than than meeting face to face with the man who would decide his future. 

During this time he spotted other small students. One, maybe two? on other student's shoulders, while whoever he was with hurried to their next class. This made his rejection from the college all the more surprising. His letters of recommendation were strong, he knew his writing to be flawless. Was it something he had said? Had he talked too much? He knew he did that but couldn't help himself. And this was a college, that should count in his favor! All he had done was propose his request to graduate in two years by taking a larger course load.

Yet John Witherspoon had left him standing on the hard wooden desk to confer with other administrators. It hadn't taken them long to return with the bad news. At least they got someone to personally escort him off the campus and arranged for his travel, though they were hesitant to do so when he told them he wished to go to New York City and not back to Elizabethtown. He had brought all of his belongings, having expected to move into school housing. 

The journey was spent deep in thought, ignoring the occasional stares of the other two passengers in the carriage, a couple also heading to New York. Had there been something wrong with his proposal? He knew it could be done, that it had been done, by Aaron Burr and James Madison. Surely Witherspoon must have known that it was possible. His ambition notwithstanding, he probably would have been accepted if he hadn't kicked over Witherspoon's inkwell over what he could only assume were important papers. It had been an accident; Hamilton hadn't meant to kick it so hard as to spill it. Still, 20/20 hindsight; he could have dealt with a normal amount of courses. 

Too late now, and a waste of a day.

-

It was an hour, maybe two, until sundown in New York City, and the lone figure of a young man could be seen walking down the street, not dragging his feet, more stomping with suppressed anger and still unspent energy. Or that's what would have been seen. Being 5 inches tall, he wasn't noticeable at all.

He had been dropped off by a tavern, but he had no interest in sleeping yet, the trip back hadn’t exactly been exhausting, even if he hadn’t slept most of it in favor of contemplating his next move. No, he needed to take a walk, get blood flowing to his brain. 

After walking a few blocks he stopped to rest on the steps up to a building. The bottom step, he wasn't feeling up to climbing any more than that. Hamilton looked out to the street, watching the people go by. Some of the passers by spotted him but paid him little heed. Such a big city, it somehow made him feel smaller than normal.

A bird landed in front of him, peeping curiously, it would not leave him alone. It got closer, hopping as if it's legs were springs. Why did birds do this!? Couldn't they just leave him alone? This one was being particularly persistent as Hamilton backed away.

It drove him into the street! He hadn't noticed until the hooves of a horse landed behind him causing his heart to nearly stop. He ran, trying to avoid feet and hooves, getting all turned around. The chaos looked to be less on the other side of the street so he headed there.

When he made it to safety, he stopped. Not to catch his breath but because he spotted someone, someone who looked familiar. The man turned his face and Hamilton recognized him. It was someone he had hoped to meet, but didn't expect to so soon and by chance. 

A handsome young man, head neatly shaved, dressed smartly in a plum coat, walked slowly down the sidewalk. It was a rare occurrence when he didn't have anywhere to be, so he decided to relax tonight and observe the city. He liked that, the more familiar he was with his surroundings the better. Always best to gather all information possible, that way when a decision was to be made, he would be well prepared! And by God he was determined to be prepared for anything that came his way.

"Pardon me! Are you Aaron Burr, sir?"

He froze, he wasn't sure if he had just heard someone call his name or not, it had been clear, however it sounded far away. Oh dear lord was he hearing things? No, no, that was absurd; he looked around.

"That depends, who's asking?" he said, cringing as as the only people he saw passed by him. Did one of them look at him funny? It must look like he was talking to himself.

"I implore you sir, look down!" came the same voice.

Burr looked down, thinking how foolish he was to follow the orders of this mysterious voice. But the result was finding its source. A five inch tall man with a messy ponytail in a brown coat was standing by his feet, looking up at him. Tiny people didn’t normally walk around, and certainly not alone. Was he lost? Not exactly sure what to do having been caught off guard, Burr knelt down. Thinking that he would look awkward to stay kneeling in the middle of the sidewalk, he placed his hand on the ground. The small man got excited at this, understanding the gesture, and stepped onto Burr's palm.

Carefully, very carefully, Burr stood up, using two hands to hold the man before his face. He had never held a small person before, or looked so closely at one, hell he had only seen a few in his life. The man was sitting, brushing off his coat, either not aware or not acknowledging the slight shake of Burr's hands.

"Very kind of you sir, to think to lift me up, thank you," the man's accent was not New York, but that wasn’t surprising, but curiously his vocal register was not higher than that of an normal human. 

"I still don't know who you are," said Burr, fumbling a bit with the small man, who was trying to find a way to either stand or sit without falling. Two hands cupped, that was the answer, the man could sit or stand now. He stood, looking Burr straight in the eye, not to stare him down, but to make sure Burr knew he was not afraid. He could easily fall to his death, and at this moment Burr was in partially in control of whether or not that would happen.

"Oh well, sure, sir. I'm Alexander Hamilton, I'm at your service, sir. I have been looking for you!"

"I'm getting nervous," _Where had could this man possibly have heard of him?_ If he was known among tiny people that would be news to him! Was there even a community of them? Was there enough of them in New York to form one for that matter?

Hamilton laughed, bringing Burr’s attention back to him, "sir, I heard you name at Princeton! Like you I desired an accelerated course of study, to graduate in two years and join the revolution!" 

 _The revolution? Had he heard right?_ But the man was still talking.

"I proposed my request to the president of the college, Dr. Witherspoon, in my interview. The look he gave me was one that suggested he questioned my sanity,"

 _I can see why,_ Burr thought, but said nothing.

"Now I admit, when rejected I did topple his inkwell, not a rational move on my part, but that alone is not evidence for my stability of mind, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes," was all he said, not being ready for the question. He was also slightly mesmerized by the dramatic way the man talked. Hamilton accompanied every statement with grand gestures, in what could only be an attempt to compensate for his size. This close to Burr's face however, there wasn't much of a need, his facial expressions were visible enough.

"So how'd you do it? How'd you graduate so fast?"

Another question, but at least one he could confidently answer.

"It was my parents' dying wish before they passed."

"You're an orphan! Oh course, I'm an orphan. We are of the same kind! People think we are less capable for losing our parents, I'm sure you've noticed. War is coming, and with it the opportunity to prove ourselves and to show the world just how capable we really are, how fortunate for us!"

How could such a small body hold so much air?

"Indeed," he said, his response cutting off whatever Hamilton had planned to say next, "Can I buy you a drink?"

By serendipity they happened to be standing outside tavern. The offer took Hamilton by surprised, it was several seconds before he responded.

"That would be nice, sir, but I warn you, you are not guaranteed a discount based on my drink's inevitable small volume. Not all establishments are so considerate and charge full price for serving 12th what would normally be given." 

"I'll keep that in mind." said Burr as he walked into the bar.

It was noisy and crowded. People were arguing, people were celebrating, people were singing off key. Burr held Hamilton up against his chest for support, "And in return, something for you to keep in mind: talk less. 

He felt the man startle in his hands at his words. Looking down he saw a shocked and more than a bit insulted, expression on Hamilton's face.

"Smile more," Burr said, smiling. "Don't let them know what you're against or what you're for."

 _Nice motto_ , though Hamilton in a sarcastic tone, but only said "You can't be serious, I-"

"You want to get ahead in life, Mr. Hamilton?"

"Of course, sir,"

Burr released Hamilton onto the bar, a young woman came over to them, she eyed Hamilton for a second before asking what they would like. She returned with their drinks, but had forgotten to bring a smaller cup for Hamilton, rushing away to find one. Burr took a drink from his own glass, looking thoughtful, then he said, seriously, "Fools who run their mouths off wind up dead.”

"WHAT TIME IS IT?"

A voice rang out, loud enough to be heard over all the bar chatter, and neither Hamilton nor Burr could help but turn to look for its owner.

"SHOWTIME!" Responded a couple of voices before the first person continued.

The owner was John Laurens, who had just loudly proclaimed his identity. The two other men he was sitting with, in turn revealed their names to be Lafayette and Hercules Mulligan. All three seemed to be enjoying themselves, and unconcerned about how loud they were being. Then the one named John Laurens looked over at Hamilton and Burr.

"Well if it ain't the prodigy of Princeton College! Aaron Burr get over here." 

Today was just some sort of special day wasn't it? No matter where he went, people knew who he was. Sure he has been staring, but he didn't want to associate himself with the men drawing the attention of the entire bar upon themselves. Unfortunately his own politeness wouldn't allow him to ignore the invitation. Burr picked up Hamilton and walked over, forgetting Hamilton’s drink on the table, but Hamilton didn’t notice, he was too interested in meeting these passionate men.

Laurens' eyes grew wide "What on earth have you got in your hands?"

Burr wasn't completely sure how to answer that. What did he have in his hands? Or rather, who? Could he properly introduce the man he just met to these three gentlemen? But the moment he reached the table Hamilton jumped out of his hands and all attention shifted away from Burr. His empty hands reminded him to go back for Hamilton’s drink but Laurens addressed him the moment he turned away.

“Where are going Burr? Give us some of your Princeton knowledge!"

Unfortunately, it would be very rude of him not to respond, thought Burr, clenching and unclenching his fists. He was going to regret this, he could feel it. Putting on as neutral a face as he could, he look at the three, wait four, men.

“I think you are all too eager to take sides so early, I want to rid this nation of the monarchy’s control just as much as anyone, but I’m not about to jump at the first chance do so without knowing whether it’s actually possible.”

The three larger men responded with noises of disappointment and disapproval while

Hamilton looked like he was in thought. It was useless to respond to such immature people, he wanted to leave. Why couldn’t be think of something to say that would politely let him escape! The trap of social convention was the worst kind of trap.

“Burr, the revolution’s imminent, what do you stall for?” asked Laurens.

_Well, if they really wanted to know -_

“If you stand for nothing Burr, what will you fall for?” interjected Hamilton before Burr could answer.

The resulting oohhhhs and snickers from Laurens, Lafayette, and Mulligan was Burr’s cue to cease interaction with them. Burr had not come here to be embarrassed and did not have to justify returning to his original seat at the bar. He had no inclination to bring Hamilton his drink anymore, deciding that he might drink it himself, he had paid for it after all.  

As for Hamilton, he turned to the smiling, expectant faces above him.

“So, kid, who are you?” Mulligan asked, his voice booming.

“Alexander Hamilton, at your service,” he said, noting that Mulligan looked to be at least a decade older than himself and the others. "And I'm not a kid, i'm 19, and sadly not going to get any bigger." 

“Hercules Mulligan,” replied the man with pride.

"Je m'appell Lafayette, at your service" said the incredibly handsome, and fashionably shaven man in a heavy French accent, offering a hand for Hamilton to shake. 

“Do you learn manners in France? I was talking to the man,” said Mulligan, but Hamilton was distracted by the frenchman, having been startled by the hand being thrust at him then by having to grasp one finger in both hands to shake it.

"Lafayette?” Hamilton said, now realizing the name rang a bell, he switched to speaking in French, “< Marquis de Lafayette? I've heard of you, you are the French noble who went against your king’s orders to come here! Sir, it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance. >” 

"<The little man speaks French! How fantastic and certainly worth sharing a drink with,>" Lafayette declared, waving over a server.

"<I speak French too!>" interjected Laurens, “<The name's John Laurens, it is a pleasure to meet you.>” 

After shaking hands with Hamilton, he looked expectantly at Lafayette who narrowed his eyes a bit. He had a mug in his hand which he now drank from with a slight cockiness.

"<Yes and it is very good, however you can pay for your own drinks. I doubt Monsieur Hamilton is carrying currency on his personage, and if he was it wouldn't be much,>" he replied, "<not to mention, you are on your third already.>" Lafayette returned his gaze, more kindly, to Hamilton.

Hamilton had been watching the exchange between the men, trying to get their personalities and faces memorized. It wasn’t easy, he was having a hard time taking his eyes off Laurens. His dark curls were pulled back in a low tail, so his face, which was half freckles was unobscured. Laurens smiled, producing grand dimples, he was not wounded in the least by the Marquis who had turned him down. So it was all in good humor.

"That is very kind of you, but Mr. Burr has already offered," said Hamilton, only now realizing Burr was no longer with them, “However we may have scared him away.”

The server, who had arrived shortly after being hailed, was staring at him. Hadn’t the small man already ordered a drink? He couldn’t have actually finished it, that was physically impossible. No matter, the handsome frenchman clearly had money to spend, and she left to get the drink.

"In the meantime I am sure I can spare from my own cup."

"It's almost empty you could give him the rest!" Laurens was clearly trying to get back at Lafayette, but his comeback wasn't very strong.

"Dregs will not do!" the Frenchman declared. That started them off again.

“So, Mr. Hamilton, what brings you to New York, or was the revolution’s call that loud?" 

Laurens and Lafayette fell silent. If anyone at the table was intimidating, it was Hercules Mulligan. He was imposing, but this was balanced out with the friendliest face. Older too, Hamilton noted, than both Lafayette and Laurens, and hair cut short, since long hair was a younger man’s fashion.

“No, you’re right, I also came to go to college. In fact, I had planned to go to Princeton but I was rejected.” Hamilton hadn’t realized he had been smiling throughout the conversation until it fell from his face as he remembered his recent failure.

“As if that’s something to sulk about, you don’t want to go there! New York is where all the excitement is, why don’t you try King’s College?”

It wasn’t long before Hamilton’s smile returned with a vengence.

“You know, I’m gonna do just that! I’ll need scholarship, but I can get. A wise man can hear opportunity on the wind! My instincts are telling me to seize it! I'm not throwing away my shot!" 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I tried to adapt My Shot for this AU but it was too difficult. 
> 
> I actually did research when writing this fic. I don't recall what book was reading I sort of just wandered around the library's section on Hamilton and picked one. It MIGHT have been Alexander Hamilton: From Youth To Maturity. Because I needed info on Ham's youth. 
> 
> All my tiny!hamilton fic is on here! but for more tiny!hamilton fic and art go to ittybittyhammy.tumblr.com
> 
> I love comments :D


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